In These Quiet Moments
by exiled mind
Summary: Bones has a request for Jim  aka Bibliophiles in the wild .


**In These Quiet Moments**

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><p>″Since your dirty laundry is piled up on the chair, you're gonna have to share the couch.″<p>

Jim glanced up from his book and smirked. The clothes heaped in the reclining chair were mostly Jim's, true, but the ones strewn around the floor beside the chair were most definitely Bones', so Jim figured he'd have a decent point for debate if he cared enough to voice it.

Deciding that surrender, in this singular case, was the better act of valor, Jim scooted himself down the cushions enough to allow Bones' to squeeze himself into the corner of the couch. Once Bones settled, however, Jim moved again, co-opting Bones' thigh for a pillow, and went back to reading.

He pointedly didn't glance up at Bones' mock-irritated snort. If you could call a snort irritated. Which Bones definitely could.

″Is that the book your mom told you to take when we left Iowa last week?″ Bones was craning his neck to look at the book's cover, thigh muscles tensing as he leaned over, upsetting Jim's position.

Jim turned the book over to satisfy Bones' curiosity and hopefully reclaim his headrest. ″Yeah. It was one of my favorites growing up.″ Jim knew he was smiling, probably dopily, but didn't bother to restrain himself. ″I read it so many times my grandfather finally decided to get me a copy in printed form for my birthday one year.″

″The name sounds familiar.″

″It was pretty popular when it was first printed in the mid-twenty-first century, and then had a resurgence around the time we were kids and all that retro lit came back into style.″

″Your mom acted like it was a priceless heirloom.″

Jim didn't quite know how to respond to that statement, thinking back to the sheen of unshed tears in his mom's eyes when she pressed the book into his hands and pulled him into her arms for several long moments. ″I- yeah. Yeah, it was pretty important to us both, I guess.″

″What's it about? Something about heroes and adventure, if I'm remembering the right book?″

Jim rested the open book on his chest, careful not to crack its spine. ″Pretty much. It's about a kid who feels trapped and alone, and like no one really gets it. He decides to run away and of course gets into lots of trouble, but also finds a lot of new friends and adventures, too.″

Jim realized he was stroking his hand up and down the book's spine as he spoke and flushed slightly when he felt Bones' eyes on him.

″Read it to me.″

Jim craned his neck up to look up at Bones. The other man met his gaze expectantly, not a trace of mocking or indulgence in his expression.

″You want me to read to you? Out loud?″

″Yeah,″ Bones replied, and carded his fingers through Jim's hair, scratching lightly at his scalp and momentarily distracting Jim from the embarrassment the request gave him.

″Isn't that a little, I don't know. Lame? High school?″

″Seeing as we are not in high school and I, for one, am certainly not lame, I'd say not.″

Jim rolled his eyes, and Bones huffed out a laugh. ″Come on, kid. No one's here to hear you except me, and I'm asking you to. I want to hear the story how you do in your head. I want to remember it as more than just another book I borrowed from the library e-files when I was a kid and promptly forgot about. So help me.″

Jim knew that there was more to Bones' request than he'd said. That by giving in he'd probably be exposing far more of himself then he'd ever wanted to before. Hell, given Bones' perceptive mind, probably more than he'd likely even _know_ he was revealing.

And yet.

And yet this was Bones. And for once he had a simple request, one that was far easier to fulfill than his usual appeals for a peaceful mission or pleas to try not to come back bleeding.

So Jim settled himself into the couch more comfortably, his head propped on Bones' thigh, and picked up the book, thumbing back to the first page. Bones settled one arm across Jim's chest and continued to idly thread the fingers of the other through Jim's hair.

Jim curled down to press his lips to Bones' wrist, resettled himself, and began to read.

″There once was a boy who dreamed of the stars, and of flying and exploring among them. Awake and asleep he saw them, dancing and glinting before his eyes. Throughout his life, even in the sunlight he knew they were there, hidden behind the soft blue of the daytime sky and calling to him, soft entreaties to join them and learn their secrets...″


End file.
